


Real Men Eat Meat

by Stuffy (AlexKingOfTheDamned)



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Stuffing, eating contest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexKingOfTheDamned/pseuds/Stuffy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan didn't believe Kurt when he said he could eat more than Logan. Now Logan regrets his decision to challenge him to an eating contest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Men Eat Meat

**Author's Note:**

> This fic briefly references this one http://archiveofourown.org/works/2513576

 

Kurt sits back with a happy sigh as he cleans his plate for the millionth time in a couple hours. They’ve been at this a while, and as one hour turned into two clocked over into three, Kurt has watched Logan’s general expression go from confidence to confusion to awe to anger.

 

Logan had needed to hunt down and slaughter three separate deer for the occasion. The original bet had been cast when Kurt stole Logan’s steaks from the fridge (justified, according to Kurt, considering Logan had taken his imported German beer. Unforgivable, according to Logan) so they’d originally intended for the bet to be settled also with steak. But they realized quickly how insanely expensive it would be to get enough steak to fill the both of them, and Logan improvised with venison instead of beef.

 

Coupled with four ten-pound bags worth of french fries and enough beer to drown a horse, three hours later the bet is well underway and neither man appears to be slowing down.

 

Logan decided to put himself in charge of making sure the steaks on the grill don’t burn and bringing them each more food as they needed it. At first the task made him feel smug and important, but that was back when he expected Kurt would bow out in less than an hour. Now Kurt just sits politely and self-righteously whenever he clears his plate and stares expectantly at Logan until he fetches more.

 

Logan is getting really tired of this. This was supposed to be an easy bet. Kurt is a tiny thing, there's no way he could eat as much as Logan. But here he is, three hours into their competition, showing no signs of slowing down. It's ridiculous. He should be ready to burst by now. But he doesn't even look uncomfortable!

 

Logan is uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. It's probably because he has to keep getting up and down. Whose idea was it to put the fucking grill so far away from the table anyway? With his waist expanding at the rate it is they're going to have to get one of the professor's old wheelchairs to help him get back and forth if this doesn't end soon.

 

But as uncomfortable and painfully cramped as his stomach is he has no chances of quitting. He'll eat until he explodes if he has to, just to wipe that damn smirk off Kurt's stupid blue lips.

 

“You’re looking rather sore, mein freund,” Kurt teases as Logan drops back into his seat with a grunt and shoves the next heaping plate of fries piled over another thick, juicy steak across the table at Kurt. He only gets an angry grunt from his friend.

 

He cuts into his steak politely finding to his delight that Logan has allowed this one to stay rare, and takes a bite with his smirk still firmly in place. So far they’ve matched each other, steak for steak, plate for plate, but Kurt is definitely worse for wear by the look of it. Both of them are rather distended by now, but Kurt’s body is so thin usually that going by appearances, it looks like he’s eaten twice as much as the other man.

 

Logan had confidently worn his most comfortable jeans, expecting that Kurt would have given up long before they would feel tight, but now he’s really feeling the brunt of this bad decision. Kurt had arrived in a loose tee shirt and sweat pants that he wore dangerously low on his slim hips. This has turned out to be a very good decision, given that Kurt’s shirt isn’t even tight yet, whereas Logan’s staple white tank top has gotten so tight it’s painful.

 

He uses his tail, which he’d thoughtfully tied a napkin to, to keep his mouth clean as he eats, unlike Logan who has forgotten all pretense of good manners in favor of trying to beat the skinnier mutant. He keeps pausing to burp and groan and rub at his stomach, and the gestures aren’t lost on Kurt. “Perhaps you vould like to forfeit?” he suggests with a smile curled into his words. “I vouldn’t blame you if you did.”

 

"I'm not forfeiting an eating contest to a damn European elf. I'll kill you first," Logan growls around a mouthful of meat. He hikes his tanktop up to release a little of the pressure on his growing belly. "I'm nowhere near done. So just keep eating if you think you can."

 

Kurt laughs and dips a couple french fries in mustard before eating them. “I should tell you…” he hums, licking his lips and then the tip of his thumb. “Last month I beat Remy in an eating contest. I beat him significantly. Und he vas a gracious loser. You still have time to be, as well.”

 

Logan stops chewing to look up at Kurt, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. "You're a fucking liar.”

 

Kurt gives a bark of laughter. “Why do you think I’m always lying?” he says, leaning back in his seat to cross his legs in the other direction under his belly. “You have Remy’s number, if you don’t believe me, text him and ask.”

 

Logan growls, considering this, and jams another bite of meat into his mouth. “I bet you aren't even eating all of this. You're finding someway to teleport half the food somewhere else. You're cheating and I'm not losing to you."

 

“I’ll have you know zhat I’m not capable of teleporting things away independent of myself. I have to teleport _vith_ it. I doubt you’re so slow zhat you vould miss it if I ‘ported in and out of zhis room several times an hour,” Kurt says indignantly, rubbing his tight, round stomach for emphasis.

 

"You do it when I leave to get more food." Logan accuses. It's impossible, he knows that. He'd smell the sulfur and hear him teleport but he'd rather pretend it's possible than admit that this guy, this skinny little elf, could out-eat him. Kurt seems to recognize the implausibility of this statement, and only laughs again.

 

However, Logan does reach into his pocket, which is harder than it usually is considering how tight his jeans have gotten over the last few hours. He finally manages to wriggle it free, a lot more conspicuously than he wanted, and texts a quick message to Remy seeking confirmation of Kurt's story.

 

_Elf says he beat you eating. Not true, is it?_

He sets his phone on the table, it’s pointless to pretend he’s not trying to call Kurt’s bluff, and continues to eat.

 

Kurt somehow manages to polish off _another_ plateful, only a few minutes ahead of Logan. But the fact that he’s ahead of him now, even by a couple seconds, really bothers Logan. He has to stand up again, yanking his shirt down before he does, but it doesn’t even reach his jeans anymore. He grabs Kurt’s plate scornfully, but he doesn’t make it more than a foot away from the table before he’s stopped in his tracks by a spade grabbing the back of his jeans.

 

He heaves a sigh and allows himself to be dragged backwards, a plate balanced on either palm. Kurt suddenly stands up against him, close enough that the curve of his belly presses tight against Logan’s back, and he reaches around in front of him to pop the button on his jeans and pull down his zipper. Logan couldn’t have stopped him without breaking a plate so he just watches in shock as Kurt’s hands retreat from his crotch and he whispers against Logan’s ear,

 

“ _Zhat should be more comfortable_.”

 

"Fuck off," Logan mutters, ignoring the way his face is heating up. It's not as forceful as it's supposed to be. He's too embarrassed and pissed and maybe a little aroused to put the strength into the words like he wanted.

 

Luckily he has the trip to the grill and back to cover it up and let it dissipate a little before he has to face the German and his bottomless gut again.

 

The phone finally buzzes when he sits gracelessly back in his seat, and he flips it open to read the text with his brow furrowed in confusion.

 

_Why you ask? You ain’t trying to out eat him, are you?_

 

The message is odd and cryptic, and leaves Logan feeling a little uneasy. The fact that Kurt doesn’t seem even remotely bothered by the fact that Logan is following up on his suggestion doesn’t bode well, either.

 

 _Yeah. He didn't really out eat you._ Logan types back, looking up at Kurt apprehensively.

 

He can't be telling the truth. But if he is there's got to be a way to back out of this without looking like he's quitting because there's no way he's actually going to sit here and go through the whole process of being beaten by this tiny little fucker.

 

He waits anxiously for a response, barely picking at his steak in his nervousness. All the food in his gut has started to do flips, but Kurt doesn’t even falter in his pace as he works his way through half of the giant steak in front of him and several handfuls of fries, and drains another bottle of beer.

 

The room is so quiet save for Kurt’s appreciative moans of the flavor through his nose, that when the phone buzzes on the table, Logan flinches. He scoffs at Kurt’s little giggle and snatches the phone up.

 

 _Get out while you still can_.

 

"Shit," Logan growls. He doesn't type back a message. Instead he throws his phone angrily at the ground where it cracks satisfyingly on the ground.

 

He watches Kurt eat for a moment, glaring holes into his head while he works away at the venison steak, ignoring his own plate. He doesn't give Kurt a chance to lean back and smirk when his plate is empty. Instead he pushes him own plate across the table towards him, eyes narrowing.

 

"Eat."

 

Kurt’s eyes widen with glee. “Does zhis mean you’re giving up?” he asks, but doesn’t let the notion stop him from stabbing a bite Logan had cut but not eaten, and chews it without hesitation. He rubs his free hand across his engorged belly, licking the juices from his lips as he tilts his chin up just far enough for Logan to watch his throat moves as he swallows.

 

Logan glares harder but does watch the muscles in Kurt's throat work to swallow down the bite of warm, juicy meat. "I want to see this. I'm more interested in seeing how much you can eat than I am in beating you. I'll buy your goddamn beer when you’re done.”

 

Kurt knows he’s won. He had a feeling getting Remy’s testimonial would discourage Logan from continuing. He’s only slightly bummed out that he doesn’t get to beat him fair and square, he doesn’t get to watch Logan give up, red-faced and grunting and leaning back in his chair to show off how massive his belly would have gotten.

 

Not that it isn’t a fair size, now. He looks like he just downed a whole keg, his stomach is hard and round and straining against his tank top. But Kurt believes he could get bigger. It’s not too huge of a loss. Some day he’ll just have to make sure to encourage Logan to keep eating until he can’t even breathe in far enough to beg for Kurt to stop feeding him.

 

He finishes off Logan’s plate with a content moan. He’s always loved the feeling of overindulging, of eating until he can’t take another bite. He’s been doing it for so long that his capacity has tripled in size, and given his strange mutant metabolism, even when he was starting out he could eat more than a human.

 

Sitting up straight, he shimmies his sweat pants even lower on his hips. He slips his tail out of the hole he has hemmed into all of his pants, so it sits over the top of the band and removes the awkward restriction. He stacks Logan’s empty plate on top of his and sits back in his chair comfortably, and pulls his shirt up to expose his belly. He rubs his hands across it and gives a shallow burp along with a moan, tipping his head back and exposing his long throat enticingly. He feels so tight and heavy, his belly has started to really hang off his body like a weight and it leaves him feeling so completely satisfied that his dick has started to show interest in his sweat pants.

 

"More?" Logan asks. He doesn't wait for an answer before he gets up with both their plates. He comes back a few minutes later with two more steaks, both heaped high with fries and sets both in front of Kurt.

 

He can see the bulge of the man's hardening cock, pushing at the front of his low hanging, not so loose anymore, sweatpants, just barely visible beyond the curve of his belly. He forces himself to look away and sit back down in his seat, taking a long slow drink from his still nearly full pint of beer to calm himself.

 

Kurt forces him to slow his pace at this point. He’s not at his limit yet, but he’ll probably be getting there soon. He knows he’ll only start cramping up if he doesn’t take his time at this point. He’s done this so often that he knows his own body and his capacity like clockwork.

 

Today might actually be a good day to press his current capacity. He’s always interesting in getting bigger. The awe that he inspires when people see him eat to absolute fullness is so gratifying, almost moreso than the sensation itself of being so full he can’t suck it in even a millimeter.

 

He nibbles his ways through the fries on top of the steaks to give himself a break, wiping his mouth frequently, and occasionally he slips a hand under the table to press at his aching prick and give it a few seconds of blissful stimulation before he goes back to cutting and chewing. His jaw is honestly getting more tired than anything else, and he’d give anything for that ache to go away so he could continue without a hassle.

 

Rubbing his hands into his belly, he arches his hips up, and the angle pulls at his pants in such a way that they caress his cock, and he couldn’t have stopped the startled, gasping moan from punching out of his lungs for anything.

 

"You really do get off on this," Logan says gruffly, watching Kurt. He's beautiful, with his face flushed purple and his eyes closed in pleasure, lips wet and shiny from being licked clean again and again. He wants to lean in and kiss him and taste the flavors from the steak on his tongue but he doesn't want him to think he's anywhere close to done yet.

 

"Bet you'd go nuts if I got under this table and sucked you off while you ate, wouldn't you?" he asks to see him make that face and moan again.

 

But he doesn’t give the submissive response Logan was expecting. He doesn’t whimper or beg or cry out. His head snaps upright and his eyes seem to glow a shade darker and he licks his fangs as he stares the older man down. Logan feels his tail whip out and wrap around his ankle.

 

“Do it,” his voice is laced with a growl and he licks his lips, his expression is so commanding that Logan suddenly feels very small.

 

Logan doesn't argue. He slips off his chair none too gracefully and crawls under the table to seat himself between Kurt's legs. Grabbing hold of the fabric he tugs the other man's sweatpants off until the fall around his ankles.

 

Kurt's cock springs free, almost fully hard, the foreskin drawn back enough to reveal the head, already flushed dark purple. He's seen the other man's dick before, they've slept together enough times that he practically has its appearance memorized, but he almost never sucks the other mutant off and seeing it from this angle never stops being a surprise.

 

Logan takes the shaft in his hand and strokes him a few times before leaning forward and opening his mouth to take him in.

 

Kurt gives a growl of pleasure and immediately tangles one hand in Logan’s hair to encourage him onwards. He can’t cut his meat anymore, but it doesn’t really matter anyway. With Logan occupied beneath the table, he can’t see when Kurt lifts the steak to his mouth with his fork and takes a bite directly out of it. This gives him an even greater surge of pleasure and he does it again, taking an even bigger bite.

 

He’s usually so careful and neat when he eats. He loves to stuff himself silly, but he doesn’t like the clean-up afterwards if he’s messy, so he doesn’t afford it to himself often. But when he does, he feels unstoppable. He barely needs to chew, his throat is so worked open at this point, and he swallows down huge bites with loud, growling groans. His hips move in shallow, circular thrusts, trying to get deeper into Logan’s mouth, pulling on his hair simultaneously.

 

One foot unfolds from under Kurt and he spreads his prehensile toes over Logan’s rock-solid gut with a purr of satisfaction when the man jolts at the sudden stimulation.

 

Logan groans around Kurt's cock and brings his hands up to grab the sides of the man's distended belly. He holds him, gently enough not to hurt him but with enough pressure to keep his hips steady as he presses as far forward as he can, trying to take in every inch.

 

He stops when his forehead hits the front of Kurt's rounded stomach and he can't press forward anymore for fear of hurting the other man by pressing on his stomach too hard.

 

Kurt gives a shuddering moan as he swallows down the last bite of the first steak. Pleasure ripples through him and his pelvic floor clenches, sending painful cramps shooting through his belly. He burps and whines and shivers for a few seconds before he gets back under control.

 

He’s breathing shallowly and he feels slightly dizzy as Logan’s mouth sucks him in. He tears into his second steak, taking even bigger bites that before, eager to finish so he can grab Logan’s hair with both hands. He eats faster than he should have, and his belly really starts to hurt, but he knows it’ll settle down in due time. He finishes the steak faster even than some of the few he had at the beginning, and Logan knows what it means when his second hand comes down on top of his head.

 

Logan knows there's no holding Kurt back now, not without hurting him. So his grip on the other man's stomach loosens, changing from trying to keep him steady to a mix of rubbing at his swollen gut and holding on for dear life while the teleporter fucks his mouth.

 

Not that it doesn't feel good. It does. Kurt's belly pressed against his face, practically suffocating him as his cock taps against the back of Logan's throat is a strangely erotic mix of sensations and the pain of having the man tug on his hair only makes it more intoxicating.

 

Kurt comes in seconds. His whole body tenses up and he vibrates from end to end. His tail goes straight and his long toes curl and his back bows and his mouth opens around a long, low moan. He shoots down the back of Logan’s throat, his hips still twitching and thrusting of their own accord for several seconds until finally, mercifully, his muscles unclench and he sags back into his seat.

 

His thighs shake and his tail sways lazily from side to side like a sleepy cat. His eyes are barely open, unfocused, staring up at the ceiling. Orgasms, somehow, are so much more intense after he’s eaten so much.

 

Logan sucks for another few seconds until he's sure Kurt is really done before pulling back to let his limp cock slip out of his mouth. He looks up past Kurt's belly to relish the look of absolute blissful contentment on his face before climbing back out from under the table.

 

Both steaks are gone. Not that is really matters but bother steaks are gone and it looks like Kurt isn't going to be able to eat much more.

 

"How about we leave the rest of the meat in the cooler and we go to the bedroom so you can finish up this meal by returning the favor?" Logan suggests, palming his own erection through his jeans.

 

Kurt makes like he’s seriously considering this. He probably _could_ eat more, but the ‘meat’ in Logan’s jeans is much more enticing than the meat out on the counter.

 

“Ja,” he says before extending his arms out with a wily grin. “But only if you carry me.”


End file.
